


A Smouldering Magic

by asfddsfe (TheCohort)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Dragons, M/M, spiritassassin 2017 exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-04
Updated: 2017-04-04
Packaged: 2018-10-14 17:01:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10540734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCohort/pseuds/asfddsfe
Summary: News of the drake came first by pigeon. The high priest read the small scroll aloud, the news from the neighboring temple of the giant limping toward their lands traveled through their ranks. A dragon's path marked by a smattering of bloodied sheep carcasses and split scales. The second word on the drake came by a runner. The young boy eagerly eating what the temple had to offer while he explained. There'd been bandits behind the drake. Following a week behind tops. The older monks had mumbled to one another and Chirrut had thought that was the end of it for him.Chirrut is sent to attend to an injured dragon, not realizing just what he's in for when he leaves the temple.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhiteMizerable](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteMizerable/gifts).



> For WhiteMizerable, who had _"Chirrut works with dragons. Baze just so happens to be one. (Is this a Harry Potter AU? I don't know, that's your call.)"_ listed in their prompts. My eyes snagged immediately on "dragons" and it was like the kill bill sirens but in a love song kinda way. It's not HP cause it turns out I don't know as much about that as I thought. BUT. I had a blast writing this for you.  <3
> 
> PS: I may have written a mini essay at the end on the mechanics of dragon flight. As it appears in this fic, anyway. Because I'm that guy.

News of the drake came first by pigeon. The high priest read the small scroll aloud, the news from the neighboring temple of the giant limping toward their lands traveled through their ranks. A dragon's path marked by a smattering of bloodied sheep carcasses and split scales. The second word on the drake came by a runner. The young boy eagerly eating what the temple had to offer while he explained. There'd been bandits, behind the drake. Following a week behind tops. The older monks had mumbled to one another and Chirrut had thought that was the end of it for him. He'd returned to his post, lifting a curious young Pogona Wyrm out of the trash bin and corralling the hatchlings back to their pen.

He'd finally gotten the young things settled over the heated coal beds, stretching themselves over the padded insulation when one of the young boys from the kitchen stopped short in the door. "Master Îmwe?"

Chirrut turned, listen to the newcomer's fast breaths. Had he run here? Chirrut frowned. "What is it Shao?"

"You're needed in the Sanctuary" the child gasped.

"What for?"

"I. I don't, there was something about a dragon! a real one!" Chirrut raised an eyebrow and the boy stuttered. "A, a big one!"

Chirrut smiled easily. "Thank you, Shao. Will you watch the younglings for me until I return?"

There was a silence then, filled by the sound of rustling cloth and Chirrut was confident the boy was nodding and bowing. Shao caught on a moment later, "Yes! Yes brother, I would be honored."

Chirrut gave a slow nod, waited for the boy to get settled near the coal pits and gathered himself to trek down to the Sanctuary.

All of the Revered Elders were waiting. Their soothing voices echoing gently through the tiled chamber. Chirrut waited until the conversation came to a stall and cleared his throat. "You sent for me?"

"Ah yes, thank you, it's about the Ossifrage Drake." Master Sana said, voice loud above the sounds of shuffling life. "We would like you to aid him, Brother Îmwe. Kazat has suggested, and I agree, that your empathic sensitivities would be quite well suited to the endeavor."

Chirrut chose not to point out that Sister Yin was more sensitive than he was. It was tempting, but he knew why they really wanted him over the others. The bandits were an imminent threat to the dragon. If they were really intent on sending just one disciple, of course then that it would be Chirrut. He nodded politely toward his brothers. "It would be an honor. However, I'm not certain I'm the best choice for, ah, looking around." He smirked.

"We were planning to channel a tracking spell into a shard of kyber." Sana said, his voice amused, clearly knowing just what to say to wipe the smirk from Chirrut's face. "Would that be amenable to you?"

Chirrut's head jerked faintly as he nodded, bowing after to show his gratitude. "Absolutely. I would be honored to carry another." Chirrut already had a piece of the rare material embedded in his staff to help resonate his magic and aid him. To have two? Chirrut's heart was fluttering to think of the possibilities.

For the rest of the evening the elders focused on the crystal, channeling their intent into the amulet. Chirrut cradled the crystal carefully in his palm as the others hummed around him. The kyber gently warmed by magic or Chirrut's own body heat. And when at last the spell was complete Chirrut packed his bags. His best boots were donned, his bags were heavy with camping gear, food; magical and medical ingredients, and underclothes enough for two weeks journey. He loaded the reluctant pony, barrels of water and cheap meat scraps, a load of the shell stone dragons favored, hitched the wheelbarrow around it's yolk, and set off. In theory he would be able to meet the dragon on it's own path, head it off before it reached their lands, hopefully before it collapsed from it's wounds.

The enchanted crystal sat, warm in his palm and slowly, after a prodding thought from Chirrut rolled over his palm, pointing firmly to the east. Chirrut sighed, lifted his walking stick and left.

His steps were careful, considerate of the trail and the land around him. The pony following at his side nudged him occasionally. That was fine. Chirrut was sure that when they grew closer to his goal it would be him nudging the pony onward. And the pony would follow him eventually. They'd raised their ponies along side the wryms in their care. This dragon he sought might be large. Might be dangerous. But his pony would be by his side regardless.

They walked. They camped. Chirrut drank strong black tea to keep his feet moving in the early hours. It was reckless, It was stupid, and Chirrut could only assume it was this kind of behavior that led the rest of his brothers to choose him for this mission.

It took them two days before the pony began to lag behind Chirrut. Stopping every few yards and huffing uncertainly. Chirrut stopped, turned to show the pony his unconcerned face, and gave a gentle tug on the lead. "Come on. It's all right." They continued this dance until finally the pony would go no further and Chirrut stopped.

The crystal in his palm sat for a moment, before slowly rolling left. Another moment and it tumbled to the right. Chirrut considered the forest around him. Only the sound of the wind through the trees interrupted the silence. No birds. No squirrels. Nothing skittered through the leaf litter. Even his pony was holding itself quiet. Chirrut gave a little, hopefully soothing, hum and set up camp. Right there in what was very likely the dragon's path. Chirrut gave the pony a bundle of mint leaves to sooth her nerves, before tying her up to a tree and carefully unhooking the barrow from her back.

The first sounds were the distant crack of tree branches being pushed aside. The uncertain knicker from the pony. Chirrut calmly stirred the simple rice porridge he'd set to simmer over a small fire. Added a dash of salt after another long moment. He frowned. The forest had been silent a long moment. He traightened in his seat, listening carefully.

It was a long, dare Chirrut say _uncomfortable_ moment before any other noise was heard. The crunch of branches, the rumble of a heavy step. Chirrut relaxed. So, the drake knew he was waiting.

Chirrut sat, patiently cooking, as the thundering steps moved closer through the forest. The slow drag of breaking branches and a rumbling thud. Another pause, and the sequence continued. Even if Chirrut had been sent with no warning, it would be clear to him that something was wrong with the drake. Too slow. Too injured or too tired to glide above the forest. Chirrut worried at his lip as he listened. Finally the steps had reached the edge of camp. Chirrut stood, running a hand over the pony's side to calm her down as the silence continued.

He listened, felt the area out tentatively and found, thankfully, only a heavy cloud of confusion. Chirrut imagined the Dragon's gaze must be very intent for him to feel it so.

"You are blind." The voice was a rich growl, rumbling up from the very earth, like gravel in the beast's craw. Chirrut nodded his head in agreement. "Are you dumb as well?"

"No." Chirrut answered primly, running soothing magics through his hands and into the pony's flank.

The drake took a long breath, a whistling thing too close to a wheeze for Chirrut's peace of mind. He turned his gaze toward the dragon. Eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"That for me?" It asked, slow like it's steps.

"Pardon?" Chirrut asked.

"The pony."

"No." Chirrut gave the pony another pat and moved back to his seat by the fire.

"Are you?"

Chirrut huffed. " _No._ " He stirred his porridge. "If you want to eat you can surely get it yourself?"

The drake was silent. The faintest rasp of feather of scale. Chirrut tried to picture what he knew of Ossifrage Drakes. They were a long, serpentine species, the four legs short, body low to the ground, and wings held tight to the spine. If the drake was healthier he'd have quite the display of red plumage down his spine. It could have been a crest? The head turning. Chirrut considered the silent forest. "Ah. Fair enough. Your thumping scared it all away, I'm sure."

Another slow breath, a rumbling, "I could eat you anyway."

"You won't." Chirrut smiled. "Though, you are free to try."

The drake was silent another tense moment. Chirrut ladled himself a bowl of porridge and tested the air again. A thoughtful pulse of magic sent out from his palms and returned to his mind. The drake was…larger than he'd guessed. The confusion was still thick. The great thing took a limping step closer. "Why are you here?"

Chirrut hummed. "The neighboring temple told us you were coming. My brothers sent me to help you." He smiled easily, eyes closing into a peaceful expression as he began to eat.

"Alone?" Another step closer. "Did they tell you about the bandits?"

"They did."

The drake was quiet. Chirrut felt a wave of exhaustion roll of the beast as it took one more step and collapsed beside the fire, Chirrut's spoon rattling in his bowl at the force of it. "So this is how it ends. Hunted, with only a blind fool for company."

"A stubborn blind fool." Chirrut corrected. The dragon…snorted. A sour gust of breath. Chirrut sighed. "There is food on the cart. I have medicine. Magic. Supplies. It is my duty as a brother of the Whills to attend to the Guardians however I can." Chirrut said, carefully reciting the stiff formality. He felt silly wording it as such, but he'd trained many years in the niceties of the brotherhood. He could use fancy language when he needed to. This, Chirrut was relieved to find, was apparently not one of those times. The dragon shifted across from him, body going still and tense before he gave another foul smelling laugh.

"You should leave me. You are alone and I am dying."

Chirrut clicked his tongue in disapproval. "Don't be dramatic." He finished his meal in silence, the dragon either sulking or succumbing to its exhaustion in the time it took the rice meal to vanish. Chirrut set his bowl aside. Dusted himself off and stood to gather his things from the packs. "What do I call you?" He mused.

The drake gave a grunt.

"Your name, guardian." Chirrut commanded.

There was a long scraping, the sound of a great body stretching and rolling against the dirt. "Baze."

"Baze." Chirrut repeat. Biting his lip and considering the name. It seemed…too short for such a great creature. "Will you let me tend to your wounds?"

"Hmph." Another long shift. "I won't stop you."

Chirrut carried his things closer, stepped cautiously around the heat of the fire, until the sound of deep breathing, the bellows of life, was right before him. He raised a hand slowly, palm out and forward to rest against the cool side of the drake. The smooth scales pressing back against his hand as the dragon inhaled.

Baze's breath was still an uneven thing, the only consistent sign of pain the dragon was letting show. Chirrut's hand snagged on the end of a scale, jagged edges like the scale was dry. He hummed. That probably wasn't good. "When was the last time you drank water?"

"A while."

"And food?" Chirrut asked.

"I ate a pony at the last farm."

There was a wave of something, not quite amusement but getting there that rolled off the dragon and flushed Chirrut with the feeling of warmth. "Hopefully not a distant relative." Chirrut mused. He continued tracing his hands down the line of the round stomach, pressing gently in search of any internal injury. every foot or so he passed he sent a gentle pulse of magic from his palms, testing the area as best he could without sight.

"There's a…" Baze shifted beneath Chirrut's hands… a brief growl echoing through the chamber beneath him. "Just down a little farther."

Chirrut followed the direction, hand's cautious as he went and found it, sticky blood and torn scales. "What happened?"

Another shift from the great guardian. "Spear."

Chirrut's hands slid carefully up the wound, searching for it's end and only finding feathers matted with dry blood and dirt. Chirrut bit his lip and considered the jagged mess. He had brought water, but it was hard to say which it was better suited too, staving the dragon's dehydration or cleansing the wound.

"That's not all of it." Baze grumbled.

Chirrut sighed. "Of course not." He straightened. "What else?"

"Tail's broke." Baze gruffed. There was a heavy silence after the statement. Something else. Finally, another awkward shrug against the dirt. "I've got… sores. On my ankles."

Chirrut froze at that. It was…not difficult to picture how anyone, dragon or otherwise, might have come to have sores around the ankle. Chirrut's mind flashed over what he knew. Chirrut could feel the ribs through the thick skin. There were bandits chasing behind. Baze was dehydrated, but how _long_ had he been dehydrated? Chirrut bit down a curse and turned toward the cart. He filled another cooking pot with water and set it near the fire to warm while he gathered the rest of the supplies he'd need, mentally reminding himself to find sticks to splint the tail with later.

"You'll have to be my eyes for this. Is anything infected?" He asked, grabbing an old towel they'd handed him while packing. Predictably charred from the first magical attempts of the youngest wyrms, and thus expendable to the ravages of dragon blood. He moved back to Baze' side. Bucket in one hand, his medical pack in the other.

Baze was silent until Chirrut moved closer, rumbling softly to say, "Left foreleg."

Chirrut stood, a long moment as he concentrated on the massive body spread out before him. He shuffled toward the head and paused. "A little help."

Baze gave a grunt. The sound helping Chirrut get a better sense of how far he needed to go. It wasn't quite what he'd meant. But it would do. He moved closer, veered too close on a step and felt the barest brush of feathered crest against the back of his hand. Another step away and forward before he turned his body toward the dragon. He sat down in the dirt, right side bright with the heat of the nearby fire. Baze shifted his head away, his regard felt in the tense air. Chirrut cleared his throat. "Your leg please."

A rumbled grunt and the scratch of scales against sand was the only warning before he had a lap full of forearm, a wide, almost hand like claw spanning the width of his crossed legs. Chirrut dipped the towel into the warm water, carefully ran his fingers over the fine bones of what he now couldn't help but think of as a wrist, and received a sulfury blast of breath to the face when his fingers met jagged wounds. Chirrut stared, blank faced up toward where he was sure Baze was watching him. "Turn your head, perhaps?" Baze gave a huff and Chirrut continued, wiping at the wounds carefully with the wet cloth.

He felt the skin carefully through the cloth as he cleaned, paused over an odd blister and considered for a moment. "I'm going to need you to lance this." He said.

"What?"

"Lance it? I…cannot see it and the…fluid needs to be drained from the blister. Just, pierce it if you can."

Baze held another of his long silences before a smooth claw was nudging Chirrut's fingers out of the way to poke at the wound. The claw retreated and Chirrut continued the gentle wiping away of dirt and spoiled blood. He muttered a carefully warning before wiping the wound with alcohol, not wanting another blast of sulphur to the face, before carefully applying a thick paste of herbs and a gentle pulse of healing magic. The wound was cleaned, wrapped and tied in a little less than an hour. Chirrut sighed, stretched his legs straight to ease the tension in his knees and scooted closer to Baze's other side. "And the right?"

His lap was once again filled with a massive clawed hand, and the entire process repeated. Chirrut gently washing and treating the wounds, Baze silently watching the proceedings with faint confusion and curiosity. Chirrut occasionally testing the atmosphere, checking for danger or distress. The more things Chirrut had to focus on, the less able his mind was to dwell on the obvious rope shape of the wounds. The friction burns and the occasional thread of hemp that needed to be pulled from the scabs painted a vivid picture for Chirrut. One that was making his hands shake and his mind race.

Eventually, after an out of place pang of embarrassment from the dragon he stopped. Took a deep breath. "Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why were you being held with ropes?"

Baze said nothing.

Chirrut gave an irritated huff. "I realize you don't want to say. I understand that. But seeing as these people are chasing after you I don't think the problem is just going to go away if you ignore it! I am here helping you. So if they're coming for you then they are coming for me too."

Baze was quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke it was a soft hiss. The air brushing over Chirrut's head as he listened. "It was a cult. They thought i was some kind of second coming of their king. they thought I'd stolen his soul or I was the reincarnation. To be perfectly honest I tried to avoid talking to them so I'm not clear on the details."

Chirrut hummed. "Are you?"

"No!" Baze snapped. A snarling whine and a fast reflex that implied he'd been asked before. Many times. "I'd been alive a century before their king was born. How could I be?"

"I shouldn't have asked." Chirrut bit his lip and bowed his head. "I apologize, guardian."

"Please don't." Baze gruffed. "I can't handle all these titles anymore. Just."

"Baze." Chirrut corrected himself. "I'm sorry." Chirrut felt the gentlest nudge against his shoulder. He lifted his hand, his knuckles bumping against the bone capped snout of his new companion. He bit his lip, hesitated a long moment before twisting his hand to run the palm up the short beak, along scaly snout and thin lips, over a downy soft trail of feathers down the line of his face and spilling down the sides into an ornamental beard.

He traced his thumb over a lightly spiked ridge over the cheek, just under the line of an eyelid. "Please let me help, Baze."

Baze took another of the deep, heaving breaths. A sigh like some sort of answer brushing over Chirrut's arms before the snout was pulling from his grasp. "Okay. The spear head is still stuck in my thigh."

Chirrut smirked, gave a nod and pulled himself to his feet with a low groan.  
  
He dug out the stone head, cleaned the wound as best he could, and ignored the sensory pleasure that cleansing the feathered mane along Baze's spine brought to his fingers. It was more difficult to treat the rear ankles, Baze's legs less mobile than his forelegs. Chirrut found himself treating the wounds while seated pressed to the dragon's belly, rear claws laid in his lap as before. It took another long while, and when Chirrut was finished the slow breathing at his back had evened out, the inhales long and steady with sleep. Chirrut carefully removed himself from Baze's side. Returned to his perch across the fire and sat, staff in hand, and listened to the forest around them. The day animals that had briefly begun to return to the area now were retiring. The bats were chirping above as they dived for their dinner in the cooling night air.

Chirrut contemplated the creature before him as he sat guard. Considered what kind of mad men would believe a human capable of ever being reincarnated as something so great as a dragon, and after wandering carefully around the edge of camp and collecting the largest sticks he could find from the woods, he returned to the fire to meditate.

It was around what Chirrut would have guessed to be a bit past midnight when Baze awoke. The sudden shift of limbs and then unnatural stillness as the great dragon came to. Chirrut wasn't sure if the sudden sense of groggy confusion was from the dragon or him. It had been a long night. Eventually Baze seemed to shake himself awake, the soft rustling of a feathered crest through air drifted from Baze and Chirrut could feel the piercing eyes turn to him. They both sat expectantly. Chirrut content to wait for Baze and Baze content to hold his silence. Chirrut couldn't keep the triumphant smirk from his face when Baze was the one to finally break. "Did you keep watch all night?"

And Chirrut couldn't help but tease, "I can't keep watch! I'm blind."

Baze's response was a smooth tired groan. It seemed hesitant at first, like Baze wasn't sure he was aloud to respond with derision, but it bubbled out and eventually turned into some form of snorting laugh. It reminded Chirrut of breakfast syrup or molasses. Thick, rich and dark. This odd, rumbling growling laugh lasted longer than Chirrut thought the joke warranted. He felt a brief moment of panic that the dragon had become hysterical before Baze took a long breath and sighed. "Whatever you were doing. Thank you." His tongue sounded hesitant as he spoke, unused to thanking another. perhaps unused to relying on another at all.

"You can repay me by returning the favor." Chirrut answered, easily.

Baze hummed. "Do you have a basin? It's going to rain."

The night was cold and breezy. The air felt heavy. Chirrut knew the dragon was likely right but said, "Is it? I don't see any clouds."

Baze huffed, and as if the weather had decided to prove him right Chirrut felt a drop of water land on his cheek. "Come here little monk."

"Little?" Chirrut balked. "I'll have you know I'm tall for a human."

"No you're not." Baze grumbled as the drops began to soak into the shoulders of Chirrut's robes. "Come on." He growled. "Is your pony fine with the rain?"

Chirrut stood, ignoring the way the damp made his knees ache slightly. The first warning signs that he might soon start to feel his age. Chirrut considered the question and shook his head. "She's alright." She'd been tied up under tree cover, she'd be fine. Chirrut shuffled closer to Baze. "What did you need?"

"Sit down." Baze ordered.

Chirrut raised an eyebrow in surprise, but eventually obeyed, squeezing down into the slice of ground between Baze's belly and the fire. There was a sharp snap in the air, the brush of a breeze coming from the wrong direction and suddenly the droplets falling softly into Chirrut's hair were halted, the air above him still in the wake of sound. Chirrut frowned, leaned back against the body breathing behind him and let his body ride on Baze's breath. "That isn't necessary, you know."

"Just go to sleep."

"Feel free to retract the offer if you get a cramp." Chirrut hummed. He frowned and added, "I hope you've got the fire covered as well."

"Sleep." Baze growled.

Chirrut rolled his eyes, shimmied his shoulders slightly to get himself comfortable, secretly hoping the dig of his shoulder blades would irritate the other before crossing his arms and letting his head fall back against the dragon. It wasn't the best position. When the rain soaked into the earth he was going to have mud on his ass, but it was dry for now. And the slow breathing at his back was surprisingly soothing. He tried to set his breath to match Baze's, failed immediately, and somehow fell asleep during his efforts anyway.

  
When Chirrut awoke the rain had stopped, Baze had shifted onto his side, so that Chirrut's lower back was pressed into the ground while his shoulder's and head were propped against the soft warm underbelly of the dragon and the sound behind him was obviously that of snoring. So much for keeping watch. Chirrut shook his head and pulled himself out of the uncomfortable position. If the tight feeling in his neck was anything to go by he'd been sleeping there a while. He steadied himself and listened, getting his bearings and taking in the world around him. Somewhere a dove was cooing a lonely song and the warm sun was beaming upon him from the east. Still morning.

He made tea. Made breakfast. Hauled the barrel of meat off the cart and rolled it closer toward Baze. And then Chirrut sat, restless energy humming in his limbs and the urge to _do_ something making his fingers tap on his mug. Baze needed to get his tail splinted, yes, but he also needed the rest. Healing was a slow process for anyone.

Chirrut puttered around, finishing his breakfast and took care of the pony, showering her with attention until he heard the scratch of scales over dirt and grass that let him know Baze was waking up. "There's food if you want it." Chirrut called.

Baze stiffened, as he had before, and relaxed as the instinct to flee was replaced with familiar understanding. "Bone?" Baze huffed.

"Old scraps."

Baze yawned, an odd, roar of a thing. "It'll be rancid."

Chirrut smirked and nodded toward the cask he'd left near the fire. "What? Does the Ossifrage have a weak stomach?" He teased, knowing full well the answer was _no_.

Chirrut heard the pop of the seal, the magic giving in to the strength of Baze's claws. A moment later the smell hit Chirrut's nose. Whatever face he'd made garnered him another awkward laugh from Baze. "What's wrong? Does the monk have a weak stomach?" Baze snarked.

"Unfortunately." Chirrut said, voice muffled by the fabric of his sleeve. He could hear the sounds of Baze eating, fast and large mouth fulls pulled out of the barrel. He turned to comfort the now thoroughly distraught pony and listened for Baze to finish. When finally the wet sounds of soft meat stopped Chirrut sighed with relief. "Can I clear that out now?"

"Can you?" Baze asked, clearly intrigued.

"I wish I didn't _have_ to, but yes." This wasn't necessarily true, but he had an inkling of how. He considered the area briefly before concentrating on the way it had smelled earlier. He felt a little jolt of magic, bouncing between the crystal around his neck and the one in his staff. He waved a hand and the clearing smelled once more like leaf litter and the cool scent of rain passed.

Chirrut grinned. Triumphant in the absence of carrion.

He ignored the snort from Baze and grabbed up the remaining sticks from last night. He'd felt them over, discarding those that were too rotten or too crooked into the fire to keep himself warm. What remained was four fairly straight sticks thick enough to withstand the day to day activities of a dragon. Hopefully.

Chirrut carried them closer. "Now that you've inflicted your horrid eating habits on me," He muttered as he moved around the camp, "Allow me inflict some pain of my own, shall we?" His toes encountered the solid side of the dragon and Chirrut considered his position, shuffled to his right and straddled the thick tail, front facing it's end.

"Hey!" Baze barked.

"Broken tail, wasn't it?" Chirrut said with a grin. "I'm setting it, Baze, calm down."

"I'll climb all over you later, see how fast you calm down." Baze grumbled. Chirrut ignored him, hands sliding over smooth scales, prodding gently in search of the break. "Farther down." Baze sighed. Chirrut hummed in acknowledgment and scooted farther down the length of muscle and bone. Chirrut's fingers found the swollen injury, the notch of bone out of it's place easy to feel beneath the skin. He concentrated on a simple spell, cooling his hands to sooth the injury and holding the area still to avoid pinching anything important in the vertebrae.

"I'm sorry my friend."

Baze managed to ask "Are we?" before Chirrut was snapping bone into place and Baze's question was turned into a shocked roar.

Chirrut did his best to sooth the wound, magic pulsing from his hand as he continued. Chirrut carefully framed the break with the sticks he had gathered and wrapped it tightly in linen. His hands smoothed through the line of thin feathers tufting out of the ends of the bandage. He unseated himself from his odd straddle, massaging gently at the tense muscles further up the tail. Hopefully it would relax the dragon. A human likely would have passed out from the pain, and Chirrut was sparing no energy to try and calm the other. Baze, however, was holding still, torso rising ahead of him, tail tensing even further in Chirrut's hold.

"Chirrut, did you bring any limestone?"

Chirrut sighed. "Ah. Got what you needed and off you fly? You're the love 'em and leave 'em type." It was, admittedly, unfair of Chirrut to say so. Baze was being hunted; of course he needed to be moving whenever he was able. It stung nonetheless.

"Chirrut." Baze snapped. "Someone is coming."

"Oh." Chirrut's heart leapt, body eagerly pumping adrenaline. "On the cart."

There was the rushing movement of the long body around him and shooting off toward the cart, faster than Baze had moved yet and Chirrut's hands tightened around his staff. He stood still, trying to listen to any sounds of approach, but only hearing the grinding of beak on soft stone. "How far out?" Chirrut asked.

Baze's answer was garbled through a mouthful of crumbled rock. The loud grinding paused for a moment before the mostly understandable, "quarter hour" registered in Chirrut's ears. Chirrut cursed. Their report had said bandits trailing a week behind. But the state Baze had been in when he stumbled into camp, it was no wonder the group had gained on him.

"Will that be enough?" Chirrut wasn't sure if he was asking about the time or the limestone. But in the end, both were out of his control, and he chose to accept Baze's low growl as an affirmative to both. Better to enter the fight with optimism. It was amazing though, to listen to the way the stone ground in Baze's throat. The sound of his stomach growling with the effort of dissolving the calcium rich rock. The way the broken down hydrogen reduced the weight of his steps as he returned to coil behind Chirrut.

Chirrut thumped his staff down against the ground. "From the east."

"From the east. Couple dozen." Baze agreed, before muttering a whispered summons. Chirrut felt the crackle of strange magic in the air. Felt the heat of summoned flame. He tried to imagine the size of the flame Baze, a fully grown drake, might be capable of summoning.

Chirrut grinned sharply.

Baze was still, Chirrut's pony holding herself likewise, sensing the mood in the clearing. Finally Chirrut could hear the distant signs of oncoming life. The snapping of sticks. The rustle of tall grasses. The distant murmur of voices. Chirrut closed his eyes, focusing on the magic he could access around him, the familiar buzz of it racing over his skin and rebounding in his staff. He heard a shout of surprise before Baze was swimming ahead of him and igniting the air with fire. Chirrut had only a moment to appreciate the steady stream of breath, the consistent burn of distant heat, so unlike the flames of the younglings he cared for, before the air was cooling and he was launching himself into the fray.

Baze's breath had taken on the first wave of the bandits, those unfortunate souls who'd been leading the pack. Chirrut heard movement ahead of him towards the right and moved that way, staff smacking a man in the head before twisting to trip him down and stab out toward another bandit. Chirrut let the magic buzz with his instincts, his body succumbing to the rhythm until he'd finished with one clump of enemies to turn and consider the field.

The enemies sounded to be clustered around Baze, Chirrut leapt closer, the air around him buoying him higher than it ever could without magic and he dropped behind a man flanking Baze, flung his staff around the man's front and pulled him into a choke hold and down to the ground. From far back the way the bandits had come Chirrut heard the creak of a drawing bow, and the sudden surge of magic was entirely new to him. His instincts were fueled by adrenaline and the next thing Chirrut knew he'd lifted his hand and _pulled_. He heard first the indignant yelp, then the horrified shout, and before the body made it to Chirrut's waiting staff he heard the sickening crunch and snap of Baze catching the bandit midway.

"Chirrut!" Baze's voice roared over the clearing, making several bandits around him freeze a moment.

Chirrut frowned, "What!?"

"Duck!" Baze's voice sounded almost happy.

The whistle of a massive whip came a moment later, Baze's tail rushing above his crouched form and clattering into several sets of armor. Chirrut hadn't even noticed them approaching, the sneaky scoundrels. He straightened quickly and pulled closer to Baze. "I just fixed that tail you, moron!" Baze, the bastard, just laughed as he continued bounding and slashing at the bandits. Chirrut heard another billowing path of flame and moved away, hitting a man in the groin then bringing the staff down on his head as he bent in pain, knocking the bandit into the ground easily.

Chirrut struggled to hear anything over the continued sound of Baze's laughter. "Is that everyone?" Chirrut asked.

"Hmmp. Looks it." Baze moved closer, body once again heavy against the earth for the used breath. There was a scratch of claws against the dirt in front of him. Chirrut frowned, comprehension snapping into his mind as he heard the sound of a struggled gasp.

"Leave him." Chirrut snapped. "We need that one alive."

"Why?' Baze huffed.

"I have questions." Baze lifted the man before Chirrut could ask, carrying the body back toward where their camp was hopefully still in tact. Chirrut followed slowly, breathing hard and fast as he caught his breath. They tied the man to a tree adjacent to the pony's. Chirrut sat down, body heavy with the weight of well used muscles. This too was a sign of his growing age. He was still capable in a fight, but the younger brothers did tend to tease his "drop them and stop" method to fighting. He could smell the burnt flesh on the wind and took a slow breath out. They'd need to leave soon. Time would bring scavengers and rot that Chirrut did not want to be present for, regardless of Baze's thoughts on the matter.

He wasn't sure what Baze had used to tie the bandit down, but the sound of rope scraping over bark had been obvious, and a moment later the great weight of the dragon was settling down nearby. "I didn't know humans could fly. It was beautiful."

"Ha, if only." Chirrut grinned though, touched by the sentiment. "I am simply skilled at manipulating the forces in the air. It's like." He hummed, trying to explain the way his magic worked was no easy task. He'd utterly failed at it before, when a younger disciple had been intent on learning. "I just, convince the air to support my body. I suppose it's a bit like the weightlessness you feel when you've filled your," Chirrut suddenly realized he had no idea what a dragon would call the organs responsible for flight. "Well. As you do."

Baze huffed gently. "I doubt it. You seemed to have more control over yourself than I ever have."

Chirrut let his thoughts blurt from him and asked, "What DO you call those? The secondary lungs that help you fly."

Baze shifted, hummed a thoughtful little tune. "I don't' call them anything. So long as they work that's all the thought I need to spare to them."

"I suppose that does make things simpler." Chirrut teased. They fell silent. Chirrut letting his breath slow to meditation. He closed his eyes, let his body relax into the log beneath him and frowned.

There was something off about the area they'd just left. Chirrut tilted his head, listening to the distant breeze. It was like a hum; a distant tone was ringing in his ears, just barely able to be heard. Chirrut listened as he gained his breath, standing slowly after he'd rested, to follow the sound. One hand on his staff and the other clutching at the kyber hanging from his neck. The closer he moved toward the battlefield the louder the ringing became, drowning out the sound of Baze grunting in question and following at his back.

The noise seemed to buzz through his staff, numbing Chirrut's hand and making his teeth clench involuntarily. He frowned in concentration. How had he failed to notice during the fight? One of the bandits must have had kyber on him, but what? Chirrut carefully lifted his fist and opened his palm, unsurprised to feel the pendant rise out of his hand to tug at the chain around his neck. Chirrut followed the lead blindly, carefully stepping over bodies as he came to them, heading in a straight line toward whatever it was the bandits had brought with them.

The kyber dropped down to his chest just as his staff nudged another body ahead if him. Chirrut stepped closer and crouched down, hands running over rough wool and metal armor, searching through pockets until his hands closed around a wide smooth stone, tucked into a small satchel at the man's armpit. It couldn't _all_ be Kyber, Chirrut was sure, but whatever the stone was it seemed to have some embedded in it's center. A crystal set in stone. But _whatever_ the stone was the kyber was reacting to it in a way Chirrut had never seen, he turned, thumb stroking over the amulet in consideration. He was stopped in his return to camp by Baze's sudden hiss.

"Baze?"

"Don't touch th-" Baze's voice was cut short, a sudden groan from the camp making the dragon freeze.

Chirrut dropped the pendant to hold it by its chain instead. He couldn't leave the object but Baze's tone had not been reassuring. He moved back to camp, calmly walking around Baze where he was still standing rigid. Chirrut reached up, hoping his aim was true, and rubbed a hand over the dragon's neck, a very gentle pulse of soothing magic to ease the nerves, and wandered toward where Baze had twisted to look. The bandit was still complaining in his bonds, feet scrabbling at the ground to try and gain some kind of leverage against the ropes. Chirrut stopped, just out of reach and crouched down to stare cool eyes toward the man's face.

"Who sent you?" He asked casually. Chirrut wanted a name but the man said nothing, just rolled his head back against the tree, the sound of hair scratching against bark irritating under the hum of the foreign amulet. "Answer me!"

The man groaned. "We just." He took a hitched breath. "We want to help you, my king. Let us..."

Chirrut reached out to slap him lightly over the head. With the knock he'd given him earlier he hoped it'd be enough. "You are foolish to believe your king could be a dragon."

"You don't know." The man spat. "He was amazing."

"Knew him personally, did you?" Chirrut asked, only silence followed for answer. "What was this great king's name then?"

"His name is sacred and mustn't be spoke." Chirrut scoffed but the man barreled on. "The dragon stayed with us for weeks! If he wanted so badly to leave why didn't he let us gift him the amulet. What easier way to show us wrong than-"

"And if I had let you turn me?" Baze snarled. "What would happen if I did become someone other than your precious King Demmond?"

The man was silent. The answer clear in the lingering pause of Baze's question. Baze's giant claw latched around Chirrut's hand, the great amulet torn from his hands and, Chirrut could only assume, slipped over the dragon's narrow head. The sensation that followed was not a noise, not quite a feeling. It was as if all the air in the clearing had disappeared for a brief moment in time, sucked inward and then away. And then suddenly everything was back as it was, but the form of Baze that rushed past him was much smaller. Stumbling forward toward the bandit. "Is this what you wanted?" Baze shouted, voice softer now that it had only a human chest to resonate in. The man gave a startled yelp as Baze's hands clenched in the rough fabric of his tunic. "Tell me you bastard, if this is the face you'd seen what would your leaders have done?" Baze was no longer yelling. His voice had dropped to a low hiss, the sound was something eerliy similar to his attempts at whispering in his larger form.

"Th-this." The man stuttered, teeth clacking together as Baze shook him. "This can't be! The prophets they-"

There came the sound of skin smacking skin. Chirrut could not say what Baze had done. whether it be a punch or slap. Perhaps the sound of a palm clutching at a neck, but the man stayed silent after that.

"Baze." Chirrut said, leaning forward to rest his hand carefully where he felt the dragon, now man, must be crouched. His palm met bare shoulder. "Baze, come on." He pulled gently, his hand tightening when Baze resisted, fingers digging into the soft give of human muscle and fat. The familiar line of a collar bone beneath his fingers. Finally, Baze relented, pulling away from their prisoner and stumbling back into Chirrut. "Careful." Chirrut muttered, habit more than necessity.

"How do you walk on these things?" Baze grumbled.

Chirrut laughed. "You get used to falling."

"You. What?" Baze took a shaky breath, Chirrut could hear the faint sound of fingers rasping through hair, rubbing down and repeating the noise over coarser beard. Feeling his new face.

Chirrut winced. "Baze, I think you should come back with me. Our temple can shelter you from this cult. If. If there are more of them. And of course the Amulet. Should be kept out of their hands." He considered the way Baze had hissed at it's sight. "We could destroy it, if you'd like."

Baze was silent a long moment. "And if I want to keep it?"

"Why would you want to.." His thought was dragged to a halt, rough finger's touching his cheek bone, just the barest touch. "Baze?"

Baze cleared his throat. "It ah, would be easier to host a human than a dragon."

"True. But you're not a human."

Baze huffed. "Not always. You." Baze cleared his throat. "It's just. You seem different from this perspective." Baze grumbled.

Chirrut resisted the urge to roll his eyes, asking instead, "What does that mean?"

"It means I'm fond of you."

Chirrut just blinked. Not sure where this was going. "I'm fond of you as well."

Baze sighed, a long, weary sounding thing. "I'm attracted to you. This brain is a human brain and this body is a human body and it is. Different." Baze cursed under his breath. "It's clumsy and weak and yet I feel like. I want to cling to this feeling. I don't-"

"Shhh. Baze." Chirrut interrupted, hand rising to grip the hand lingering near his own face. "If you want to keep the amulet that's fine. But maybe…think about it a little bit before you go declaring your intentions. You know. Think on it for more than ten minutes." He gave a delicate snort, too affectionate to be offensive, and moved his hands toward Baze, hands reaching warm chest rather than the shoulders he'd expected. Of course Baze was tall. Chirrut recalculated and reached his hands up to cradle the unfamiliar face.

He was satisfied to feel that the dragon's beard had translated well to a human form. The face was soft, the sweep of jaw and cheekbones softened under healthy flesh, though clearly well defined. He followed soft lines around the mouth to the straight nose, toward deep set eyes, heavy brow and into thick waves of hair. Chirrut felt a little bemused as he smiled. "Well, hello there Baze."

"Hello." Baze replied, stiff and uncertain.

It seemed ridiculous that the face beneath his hand should feel the perfect age to match his own. Chirrut slid his hands over the man's ears, rubbing the tips while his face stretched into a grin. He politely ignored the funny hitch of breath Baze took on the action. Dragons live a fair length of time, Baze had admitted a century or two of life, but was that long enough to translate to middle aged in human life? Chirrut bit his lip and frowned. The amulet had felt incredibly powerful, could it shape it's wearer to the wearer's will? Subconscious or not if Baze really did feel attracted to him could that be why he'd become this specific man?

Chirrut shook himself from the thought, ignored the pressing reminders of his single life and empty bed waiting at the temple and sighed. Well. That was certainly one way to show Baze the perks of being human. Finally, softly, he asked, "May I kiss you Baze?"

Beneath Chirrut's hand's Baze's face twisted into puzzled frown. "Yes?" Chirrut waited and finally Baze asked, "That's a human thing?"

Chirrut snorted. "Come here." He tugged, gently on handfuls of hair until Baze's face lowered closer to his. He stepped up, the heat radiating from Baze's wide frame and newly hot blood reminding him of the man's nudity. It occurred, passingly, that he wasn't sure what he was going to dress him in when their lips met. A simple press of lips between them, enough pressure for the bristle of Baze's beard to scratch against Chirrut's chin, and then he pulled away and dropped back onto his heals.

Baze released a funny snort of breath, his head shifting back within Chirrut's hold before tilting, Chirrut imagined in thought, and surging down to press his lips back to Chirrut's. It was exactly the kind of kiss you'd expect to receive from someone who'd never even contemplated the act before that day. Chirrut stifled a laugh and turned Baze's head aside, using his handhold in the man's hair to take control. Chirrut bit at the cracked lips beneath his, not in the least surprised by the growl he received for his troubles. It must have suddenly occurred to Baze that he could kiss other parts of Chirrut, because he jerked back to press his lips to cheek, forehead, then lurched down to bite gently at Chirrut's neck.

Chirrut laughed easily and pulled Baze back and away.

Baze's breath was fast and hot against the crown of Chirrut's head as he admitted, "That, felt surprisingly nice."

"Kissing?" Chirrut grinned.

"No." Baze frowned beneath Chirrut's fingers. Chirrut frowned. Baze quickly blurt, "Touching."

Chirrut bit his lip and pulled Baze down and into a hug. Pressing a kiss faintly to Baze's ear.

"You're very warm." Baze mumbled into his neck.

"So are you." Chirrut said around a hysterical giggle.

Baze snorted. "Is this what warm feels like to humans? I'm sorry."

The clearing was cool and the slighT bReeze was enough to make the flesh under Chirrut's hands pebble with goosebumps. Chirrut shook his head and pulled away, moving to the cart to rifle through his things. Would anything he'd brought fit Baze? It'd all be too short, too tight. He found a robe that wasn't too filthy. A pair of his looser trousers. Baze would just have to make do without a shirt. Chirrut was sure no one _else_ would mind. From what Chirrut had felt Baze's chest was a sight to see. Chirrut counted himself lucky to have felt it.

He held the bundle out for Baze. "C'mere. This should help." Baze made no move and Chirrut shuffled back over to him. Considered for a long moment and sighed. "Hold onto my shoulders." He ordered, while unfurling the loose linen cloth. Strong hands clamped down around his shoulders, tighter than strictly necessary but Chirrut ignored it. Gently urging Baze to lift a leg with a gentle hand behind the knee. "Hold that pose." He ordered, before carefully slipping the leg through the first fold of cloth. He repeated the motions on the next leg, and slid up to fold and tie the trousers around Baze's thick waist.

He received a soft kiss for his troubles and grinned. "You're really taking to that."

Baze shrugged beneath Chirrut's hands as he pulled the robe into place. "It's nice." Baze pulled the robe closer. "Smells nice."

"It's dirty."

"It smells like you."

And that, for whatever reason, was what finally pushed the blood to Chirrut's cheeks. "Well. Thank you." He cleared his throat, gave Baze's chest an awkward pat, and nodded. "Help me pack up the camp will you?"

"I shouldn't walk on my own." Chirrut ignored Baze's protests, until Baze added. "If I fall into the fire it's your fault."

"Stay clear of the fire, then. You can put our friend on the cart for me." Chirrut grinned, then had the sudden fear, "He's not dead is he?"

"No." Baze's voice was rough, but he sounded sure. Chirrut nodded and listened to him untie the man and heft him onto the cart.

Chirrut double checked that everything was collected and tied down before leading the pony over and hitching her to the barrow. He listened to Baze kick sand over the remains of their fire and felt a pang of guilt. "I'm sorry I don't have shoes for you."

"What?"

"Ah. Foot protection." Chirrut explained.

Baze pulled close to stand beside him. "I'll change if I need." Chirrut nodded, and Baze moved a little closer, chest brushing against the sleeves of Chirrut's robe. "Do I get a reward?"

"For what?" Chirrut laughed.

"Helping pack?" Baze didn't sound confident.

Chirrut grinned and twisted easily to pull the man into a quick kiss. He grabbed Baze's arm in his own and grabbed the pony's lead. "Let's go."

Baze huffed a small laugh. "What happens when you show up with two humans in tow?"

Chirrut opened his mouth to answer. But a niggling thought wormed it's way to the forefront of his mind and snapped his mouth shut. He frowned, thinking over the last week. He'd assumed they'd sent him because of the bandit threat but. He recalled the way Sana had bothered him last month about the loneliness she'd sensed from him. The way Kazat had backed her up with gentle teasing. Despite an indignant flash of irritation, Chirrut could not bite down a sudden laugh.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Baze. After all, this was all Kazat's idea."

"So?" Baze gruffed.

"Kazat's specialty is precognition."

**Author's Note:**

> Rambly "sciencer" nonsense: So this fic is roughly operating on the idea that dragons are loosely related to birds, think dinosaurs, and they achieve flight despite their huge size by consuming large amount of calcium rich stone like limestone, or just straight up bone, to react with a high ph stomach acid to create hydrogen, which from the stomach could be stored in two additional organs similar to a swim bladder in fish. Hydrogen is also very flammable, and belching out the gas would be a good way to create the myth of fire breathing dragons. Now, you could take this in a bio-electrical way like in the film "Flight of dragons", but Hydrogen is very flammable and I feel that igniting it INSIDE the body would be kinda risky. So, seeing as this world has magic, I imagine dragons could summon a small flame to hover in front of their mouths, and by breathing out into the flame you'd get a neat flame thrower effect. :3 
> 
> _I REALLY like dragons. It didn't seem like you bookmark/write anything explicit so I played it on the safe side, but your request DID get sent to one of the people in the fandom who WOULD write explicit romance between a human and a dragon without bothering around the human transformation stuff, so if that's something you wanted: HMU_
> 
> I really hope you liked the fic! I had a blast writing it and I may or may not be considering a continuation of the idea.


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